


Undercover Lover

by thebrightestbird



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Getting Together, Humor, With a serious middle, discussion of domestic violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-26
Updated: 2014-08-26
Packaged: 2018-02-14 22:18:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2205081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebrightestbird/pseuds/thebrightestbird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha enlists Sam on a mission to get a friend out of an abusive relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Undercover Lover

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by the story from the Black Widow comic book series that came out a few years ago. She threatens a guy in the bathroom to leave the woman he abuses. 
> 
> This story only discusses the topic of abuse. There are no depictions. 
> 
> And honestly, guys, this is mostly my usual fluff.

Steve leaves the kitchen to answer the front door.  He and Sam have only been in their new apartment at Avengers Tower for a week, but the two already have a groove going for who does what.

Steve ended up being the one who always gets the door. (“It’s always for you,” Sam says. “I’m just sponging off the goodwill of Iron Man. _You_ actually have to do hero stuff. Not that I _couldn’t_ do the hero stuff.” “Yes, Sam, you’ve told me,” Steve says. “Several times.”)

He looks at the security camera screen to see Natasha standing in her default bored stance.

“What’s up?” Steve barely gets out the question before Natasha’s sliding through the door.

“Where’s Sam?”

“We just got back from our jog. He might still be showering.” 

Sam steps out of his room while buttoning his shirt as Steve finishes his sentence. “Hey, Natasha. I didn’t know you were coming over. I would have buttoned up a little slower and – ”

Natasha strides right up to Sam, interrupting him. “I need you, Sam. I need you right now.”

Sam’s thrown off his game by her urgency. “Uh, yeah, okay. You know I’m _always_ ready, but Steve’s still in the room. You sure you don’t want to do this privately? Because I’ll kick Steve out.” Sam looks at Steve. “Sorry, buddy, but you gotta go for maybe an hour. No, two hours. Wait, no. _Two and a half hours._ ”

Steve’s unimpressed. “What’s going on, Natasha?” he asks, ignoring Sam’s quite optimistic interpretation of the situation.

Natasha doesn’t take her eyes off Sam. “Meet me downstairs in five minutes. Get into some nicer clothes. Think yuppie casual. Don’t forget the brown leather jacket and sunglasses.”

Sam’s confusion has made him incapable of responding. Instead, he dwells on her request to change when he already thought he was dressed pretty damn well at the moment.

But like always, Steve’s got his back. “Natasha, really, what’s going on?”

“Sam’s going undercover with me,” she answers, still staring at Sam. “Congratulations, we’re now engaged.” With that, she turns and leaves. Steve and Sam stare dumbly for a minute at the front door she just closed.

Sam finally shakes himself out of Natasha’s spell. “Me? Undercover? I’m not in the military anymore. I’m not a spy. I’m not an Avenger,” he pauses and turns to Steve, “which I totally should be.”

Steve sighs. “Yes, I’m working on it. Back to the current issue.” He’s still staring at the door like she might burst back through it to request all of their forks or something else just as ludicrous. Since the events in D.C., however, he knows to trust her. (Except in poker. Never trust her in poker.) “Natasha’s working on her own agendas right now. If she wants to involve you, she must really need you.”

Sam considers the thought, and of course, Steve’s right. Natasha doesn’t ask for help easily. “Yeah, I know. I better get down there.”  He turns to go back into his bedroom to change when he remembers something. “Wait, didn’t you say you two pretended to be engaged while you were on the run from S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

“Yeah.”

“And she kissed you as a distraction?”

“Uhhh, yeah.”

Sam bolts into his room, tears off his shirt, tosses his drawers, praises Jesus, tries on three shirts and rejects them all, says “fuck it” with the fourth and pulls it on while grabbing the coat and sunglasses Natasha had requested, streaks past Steve on his way to the door, opens it, and praises Jesus one more time before stepping out and slamming the door shut.

Steve sighs and goes back to making his lunch.

-|-|-

Natasha briefs Sam as they walk to a bistro a few blocks away.

“Her name’s Samantha. She was a S.H.I.E.L.D. weapons analyst who now works for Stark. Her intelligence is off the charts, but her self-esteem is nonexistent. Her fiancé is named John. He is a first-class bastard.”

Sam raises an eyebrow at her disgusted tone. He’s realizing this isn’t some world-saving mission. “Since you brought me into this, I’m assuming some form of counseling is going to be needed.”

“He beats her,” Natasha says, bluntly.

Damn. Sam already had guessed that from Natasha’s demeanor. She is going about this lunch date like it was another one of her covert ops. She’s here to take out a target.

Natasha stops them for a second before they reach the outdoor seating and the easy view of the bistro’s patrons.

“You’re right,” she says. “I do need you for counseling. For _her_. I don’t mean to hold a therapy session right there. I know this isn’t your training. But you’re so good at guidance. You push people in the right direction. I need you to push her into getting help and to stay away from him.”

Sam thinks he should put up some denial over the praise, but this isn’t the time for him to temper any possible judgments from Natasha about his arrogance. To be honest, he _is_ a skilled counselor, but Sam truly thinks the successes he’s seen and difference he’s made is a result of pure, open-hearted effort. Simply put, he just really cares and he bothers to try.

“What about John?” Sam asks.

“I’ll handle him.”

“Natasha  … ”

“You’re not getting any more details than that, Wilson. I’ll handle John. You handle Samantha. That’s the mission.”

They stand quietly for a minute, a staring contest ensuing.

Sam just needs to know one more thing before agreeing to go into this ordeal. “Is he a dead man?”

Natasha finally blinks. “No,” she answers, and that’s all the answer he’s going to get. She was serious about the no more details part.

“Okay,” Sam says with a slow nod. “Then let’s do this.”

-|-|-

The poorly covered bruises on Samantha’s right wrist greet Sam when they shake each other’s hand during introductions. The lunch is deceptively cordial. John won’t shut up about his mid-level management work at a pharmaceutical company. When Sam tries to ask Samantha about herself, John answers for her. However, Natasha and Samantha do manage to make some small talk to catch up with each other only because John is kind enough to “let the girls talk.”

Natasha’s right. John’s a bastard.

Despite her mildly engaged appearance, Natasha has been working on her end of the mission the entire time. She’s been ensuring John’s glasses of water and soda are always kept full. She also absolutely insists he try the heaviest, saltiest thing on the menu. He inevitably has to excuse himself to the bathroom.

Natasha happens to need to visit the bathroom too. It’s time for Sam to get to work.

“Uh, Samantha,” Sam starts but then realizes something. “Wait. I know we’ve just met, but could I call you Sam?”

She smiles. “Sure. That’d be fun. I haven’t been Sam since grad school.”

“Okay, well, us Sams should start a friendship off on honest footing. So, confession number one: I’m not engaged to Natasha. That was an excuse to have me come along and for you to bring your fiancé outdoors.”

Confusion starts to show on Samantha’s face, but Sam plows ahead. “Confession number two: This was a necessary setup because Natasha needed to keep John away from you to confront him about the way he treats you. And no, she won’t kill him. I already asked.”

Sam grabs a spoon to twirl between his fingers like some people do with pencils. Channeling his nervous energy by occupying his hands helps get him through these kinds of conversations. “And confession number three is that what happens from here on out is dependent entirely on you, no matter how persuasive Natasha gets with John. Safe money is on him limping out of that bathroom not wanting to continue a relationship with you. But you have to decide to walk away too.”

Sam goes on to talk to Samantha about her options for shelter and therapy. He also lets her know that his door is always open if she needs anything. Sure, he’s not going to be the right professional to really help her through the effects of her abuse. But, again, Sam just really cares and he has to try.

Natasha eventually emerges, but there’s no sign of John. “He went through the back door in the kitchen,” Natasha says. “He also paid for the meal.”

Samantha scoffs at her. “Natasha, you are unbelievable. I wish I could take back all of that experimental weaponry I slipped to you at S.H.I.E.L.D.”

Natasha lets anxiety show on her face and looks at Sam with an accusing “you fucked this whole thing up” look. “Did you two not have a nice, helpful conversation out here while I was in the bathroom?”

Samantha gets up from her seat. “Yes, we did. Don’t worry.” She hugs Natasha tightly. “Thank you,” she says. Natasha starts to hug back. “Come with me to my apartment?” Samantha asks. “So I can pack a few things and move out?” Natasha, of course, nods a yes.

As they pull apart, Natasha is smiling a little. Until Samantha sharply shoves her away. “But I still don’t like being played, Natasha. I knew Sam seemed too well-adjusted and sane for you. ‘Oh, we met at a peace summit,’ you said. My ass you did.”

Sam laughs at Samantha’s jab at her, but Natasha just sniffs at the comment. “Well, everything went according to plan, so you non-spies have no right to criticize my methods.” She grabs both Sams’ hands. “Come on. Let’s go.”

-|-|-

Sam and Natasha decide to have the cab drop them off at the bistro. It’s dusk now, and everyone’s busy eating dinner. They walk back to the tower from there, bringing them full circle and lending a sense of completion to their “mission.”

They're quiet until they reach Sam’s apartment door in the tower.

“You did good today, Sam. Maybe I’ll take you on an actual mission next time.”

“Nah. I’m still mostly a soldier at heart.” He gives her sly smile. “ _Although_ , Steve did mention your love of undercover PDA and – ”

Of course, that’s when Natasha lays a kiss expertly on his lips. Sam catches up with her quickly, teasing her lips into opening up a bit more. She’s short, so Sam holds her waist to support her while leaning her back some, making the kiss impossibly deeper, turning it into a full-body experience.

They get so lost in each other that they both jump apart in surprise when Steve swings the door open. “Christ, Rogers!” Sam says. “You have the worst timing.”

Steve shrugs unapologetically and assesses the situation, looking from one friend to the other. “I’m guessing the mission went well?” he asks with a smirk, trying to annoy Sam even more (because Steve’s a little shit when he’s not saving the world).

Natasha’s not having it, though. She’s a busy, unaffiliated spy, and this thing between her and Wilson is getting started _tonight_. “It went very well,” Natasha answers. “So well, in fact, that we are going to need you to go somewhere else right now.” She pulls Steve out of the doorway, then pushes Sam through it. Before closing the door, she tells Steve, “Don’t come back for like two hours.”

The door’s almost closed when Steve hears Sam shout, “Two and a half! _Two and a half_ hours!”

-end-


End file.
